Yesterday I came up to the bay for the 4th of July. We went to the bay, did the whole drinks, fireworks, swimming, jet ski, the whole deal. There were a bunch of kids playing on the beach, a parade of golf carts dressed up in red, white and blue. It would have been perfect, although I had a difficult time enjoying it. Everything I did made me think about Ricochet and all the fun he would be having if he was here with me. When I was swimming in the bay I could almost see him dressed up in his little blue life vest and goggles swimming along next to me. Laying in the sun, there he was rolled over on his back soaking up the rays on his belly, his little legs up in the air, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth in that silly grin he gets on his face when he is happy and relaxed. On the jet ski, he would sit in front of me, his life vest matching the blue of the skidoo. The wind would be blowing his ears back and he would keep his nose slightly up as if he smelled something. When the waves get too rough, I would wrap my left arm around his chest and he would lean into me, keeping his from end down, but lifting his butt to help me balance as he used to do on the dirt bike. He was there running, jumping, swimming and playing with the neighborhood kids, barking at the fireworks and upsetting the old ladies who would tell him to sit quietly and behave. It has become impossible to do anything without thinking about him.
AW
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